


i was naked and you clothed me

by alchemystique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Charming - Freeform, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma buys Hook some clothes, to unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i was naked and you clothed me

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be a little drabble about a hoodie but then the Charming family got involved and it just became a feels fest.

_"I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me." - Matthew 25:36_

He spends a week in the hospital, Henry or David at his bedside almost constantly as they regale him with tales of their days, and it is _great_ to see how much her family cares for him, amazing to see the men in her life smiling and laughing and poking fun at each other, but… but she just True Loves Kissed the man back into existence and proceeded to watch him get beat to hell by an angry witch, and while usually now would be the time where she freaks the hell out and runs, now she just wants to spend a moment _alone_ with him.

Mary Margaret finally brings it up on the day of his release, over breakfast.

"So… Hook gets out today." This launches Henry into a speech about all the fun things they’re going to do together, and while it’s terrifyingly endearing to know that Hook had promised to take him sailing, and spend a day practicing their swordsmanship, and watch _all_ of the Harry Potter movies, Emma still squirms in her seat, picking at her food.

Mary Margaret gives her a quick look as David breaks in with the idea that they should teach him how to drive, and seriously, when had David become such a huge fan of Hook?

"You know, that all sounds wonderful, Henry, but maybe your mother would like to spend some time with him too?"

"Well she can come with too, I guess."

Apparently their year together has made her a less appealing option than the pirate.

"Maybe she’d like to spend some time _alone_ with him?”

Henry and David both shoot her guilty stares that she shrugs off, although it is fairly comical to see the stricken looks on their faces as they realize they can’t keep Hook all for themselves. But when she throws on her jacket later and grabs the small duffel bag that’s been sitting next to the door all week they merely ask her to tell Hook they say hello.

He grins when he sees her, and Emma ignores the orderlies harried look as she leans against the doorway, watches as the nurse tuts about paperwork and slides past her out the doors.

"Alone at last," he says, raising his arms over his head as he leans back into the pillow Henry had brought him, wincing and thinking better of the idea once his arm is above his shoulder, and seriously, no man should look that good in hospital robes. The cut over his eyebrow is healing nicely, and the bruise around his eye is almost completely faded, but Emma can still remember each hit as he’d been flung this way and that by the crazy bitch Regina was apparently related to (that woman had a wonderful gene pool).

"I brought you some clothes," she tells him, gesturing with the duffel, and he raises a brow. "Clothes that won’t actually _aggravate_ broken ribs and a collarbone.”

"S’not _broken_. Fractured.”

"Fine, a fractured collarbone."

She sidles up to the side of the bed, reaching for his hand unthinkingly, and his smile is radiant as he tangles their fingers together.

——

She takes him to the diner, ignoring his grumbling about her jerky driving as she pulls up to Granny’s, and she watches him unbuckle his seat belt in a rush, moving around the side of the car before she’s even pulled the keys from the ignition.

She half expects to meet him inside, already demolishing an omelet (Swan, why on earth would a doctor feed a patient this awful stuff?), but instead he skids to a halt beside her window and gallantly _yanks_ the door open for her.

Emma rolls her eyes as she steps out, gesturing for him to lead the way, and then regrets it the moment she sees him striding across the street in loose sweats. Jesus fucking _Christ_ the man has everything going for him, and she stares greedily at his retreating ass for a moment before shaking her head and following.

Ruby’s grin is all teeth as they enter together, and she’s already laying out two hot chocolates at the middle booth. Hook gets a few boisterous greetings from the dwarves, and Granny comes out from behind the counter specifically to greet him, actually _giggling_ when he compliments her dress. 

One heroic gesture and suddenly the whole town adores him.

Ruby eyes him carefully as they sit across from each other, taking in the beanie and the hoodie in amusement.

"You know, when I imagined you in modern clothing I always pictured…more buttons. Maybe a waistcoat. Skin tight jeans."

"Spent a lot of time imagining me, hm?"

Her smile is amused as she hands him a menu. “Pick anything you want. One the house for our resident saviors.”

"I’d kill for some chimera and an ale."

"We’re fresh out. But lasagna and an iced tea come close."

"I highly doubt that."

"Don’t knock it til you try it."

He gives the menu another overwhelmed look before sighing. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“ _God_ , me too,” Ruby says on a grin, darting away before Emma can put a word in.

Hook is silent as he eyes her in amusement, fingers tapping idly against the table. “She didn’t even ask what you wanted.”

Emma slurps noisily at her drink, shrugging her shoulders in response. “I’m pretty easy.”

He snorts, sinking further into his seat, his knee brushing hers under the table. “My experience tells a different story.”

They eat quietly, their gazes catching and holding more times than Emma is willing to admit. Every once in a while he’ll remark on some new fascination - the strings of cheese that keep falling out of his grilled cheese sandwich, the necessity for such an excess of sugar on the table, how sinfully delightful _whipped cream_ and iced tea are (he mixes them to mixed results, mostly his ridiculous reaction and Emma’s loud laughter), the softness of the inside of his sweatshirt, how much he likes the sound of her laugh.

Emma doesn’t talk much, enjoying the calm moment, enjoying _him_ in all his idiosyncrasies and open facial expressions. She blushes when he asks about the sweats, remembering her frantic tip to the store the morning after he’d been admitted, her insistence that _everything would be fine_ once she’d gotten him some clothes.

David had merely given her a knowing look as she tossed things into the basket, and she hadn’t really calmed down until she’d eyed the stupid black hoodie he was now sporting, fingering the drawstrings as she reminded herself that he was _fine_ , that he just needed recovery time, that he was far from gone.

"Just figured you’d be more comfortable in that that in all your leather."

He hums, sipping his (new) iced tea. “It’s all rather more casual that I’m used to.”

"Count yourself lucky I didn’t buy you a jacket with pink hearts all over it."

He glances at her quickly. “I though these were your fathers. You didn’t have to procure me new clothing.” He seems touched by the gesture, and Jesus, it’s just a pair of sweats and a teeshirt, neither one of them should be getting emotional over the damn stuff.

"I just thought you might be here a while. Might as well get you started on a wardrobe that has more than two colors." (Black shirt, black hoodie, red sweats - yeah she needs to work on that)

He gives her a little dopey grin as he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can he’s interrupted by the diner door opening to an excited whoop from her son. “Captain! How are you feeling?”

David and Mary Margaret have the decency to look apologetic as they trail in after him, and it takes a total of three and a half minutes for Henry to decide Hook should stay with them until he’s fully recovered. 

"I’ll take the couch," he says without skipping a beat, and David gets a tortured look in his eye even as Hook tells them all that it’s not necessary, that he’ll be fine on the ship, that he’s mostly recovered, that -

"Don’t bother, Hook. Henry has a way of getting what he wants," David says in acceptance of his fate as Henry beams across the table at him.

——

Emma only accepts her own fate when she finds Hook passed out on her bed late in the evening, and she curls up beside him, watching his chest rise and fall, calm washing over her as she takes in the curves of his face and the sound of his even breaths. She carefully tugs the string of the hoodie off his face as she smiles, and closes her eyes as he mutters something unintelligible. She falls asleep more easily than she has in months.

——

He takes to wandering the house in the hoodie despite the shopping trip he’d taken with David and Henry for more clothing. He grumbles about the jeans and shoots her annoyed looks when she reminds him that shirts have buttons for a reason, but the hoodie becomes a staple just as his leather greatcoat had been. 

(The coat is hanging in her closet, screaming at her, reminding her of all her years of not trusting anyone and never letting anyone in, but she ignores it.)

She finds him with the sleeves rolled up, doing dishes after dinner, or curled up on the couch, glaring at Henry’s iPod as he attempts to read one of Mary Margaret’s more scandalous novels, one of the drawstrings dangling childishly from his lips. Its adorable. She finds him sitting with David late one night, spoon in his hand as they share a pint of ice cream and speak in low voices, his left arm tucked into the pocket; and grinning at Mary Margaret as she slaps the hood up over his head in annoyance at some joke.

He wears the thing for two weeks straight, and finally when he’s thrown it off to join Henry and David for a walk down to the stables Emma gathers it up and sends it through the wash.

Which leads to a massive fight, one that Emma has no idea the basis of, only that they’d yelled at each other for a good twenty minutes before he’d slammed the door behind him on his way out of the loft.

Mary Margaret finds her, sitting in the dark, staring at the kitchen sink, and drags the story out of her, but all Emma can think about is the fact that his jacket is still hanging in her closet, and that’s something, right?

"You had a fight over the sweatshirt?"

"I cleaned it. It was still in the dryer when he got back and he had a minor freak out about it. I don’t know. I may have yelled at him about his attachment to inanimate objects."

"Oh, Emma."

She says it like she’s about to give Emma some piece of profound wisdom, and she doesn’t disappoint. 

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he wears it so often because you _gave_ it to him?”

No. No, it hadn’t, because Emma always forgets that he’s a sentimental old fool, and of course, of _course_ , he always wore it, because it had been a gift from her, because it was the first thing she’d ever given him just because she wanted him to be comfortable, and god damn it she’s kind of a jerk for flying off the handle about it. 

Mary Margaret smiles at her, pats her on the shoulder, and walks away. “I’ll let Henry know you won’t be home tonight,” she says over her shoulder.

——

“ _What?_ " He says, particularly ferocious as he swings the door open, and Emma hands him the sweatshirt, folded neatly. 

"For as many times as you’ve reminded me how not sentimental you are, I should have remembered you’re a big fat liar."

"Swan, did you really come here to insult-"

She sucks in a deep breath. “It’s a stupid hoodie, Hook, and you yelled at me, and I don’t think you’ve ever actually yelled at me before. I overreacted.”

He shuffles, hands curling around the black cotton. “Perhaps…I overreacted as well.”

"Can I come in?"

His gaze is dark and heated as he nods, and Emma feels a tingle of warmth in her chest as he closes the door behind her, stalking towards her as he tosses the stupid thing halfway across the room.

——

"Oh hell no."

"Swan."

"No. Seriously. I invite you out on an actual _date_ , put on this ridiculous dress, do my makeup, curl my _hair_ , and you show up in this?”

He’s grinning from ear to ear as he reaches forward to pull her into him, fingers dancing around her waist. “It reminds me of you,” he says, and damn it, a hundred other lines that have never ever worked on her and this one makes her feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. 

"If you’re not wearing a button up and a _tie_ underneath that thing I’m taking off this dress and sending you back to your ship.”

He tugs on the neck, showing off a fair amount of skin, and sure enough, the shirt he probably buttoned only the very bottom three buttons of has a collar. No tie.

The sweatshirt has a musky smell to it, rum and salt and sandalwood (he’s completely obsessed with scented candles, has about thirty on his desk right now, the silly, silly man), and she nearly melts into the embrace. “You are not wearing it,” she tells him, and he gives her an incredibly dramatic sigh. 

"Fine," he tells her, already yanking the thing up over his head, "But I’ll remind you you’ve _still_ got my coat hanging in your closet, and it’s bloody cold out.”

He doesn’t ask for it back, and her heart flutters as he tosses the sweatshirt on the side table as he leads her out the door.


End file.
